Prayer
by Yuuki Miyaka
Summary: Duo and Quatre thinking about each other. No yaoi.


Standard disclaimers apply.  
  
Prayer  
A Gundam Wing fic  
by: Yuuki Miyaka  
  
Put us side by side and see the difference. He's sweet, I'm manic. He's gentle, I'm loud. He's treated with respect, I'm treated with ridicule. And yet . . . we're fighting for the same goal. It's gotta be weird ta him, don't ya think? There are times when I wonder if he's playing with a full deck. He had everything, and he left most of it behind to come fight with us. Meanwhile, I'm nothing.   
There was an old prayer that Father Maxwell used to read to me. I always used to listen to it, and feel sorry for whoever wrote it, 'cause they must've understood just what it was like, bein' a street rat and havin' no one to go home to and nothing waitin' for ya. But at the same time, whoever wrote it must've had a family, too. 'Cause the prayer just seemed to understand both sides. Kinda like it knew about Quatre and I both . . .  
  
"Duo?" Quatre's sweet voice cut into the braided boy's reverie, and Duo jerked up, plastering his manic grin on his face before Quatre caught him. Although he had a sinking feeling that the blond pilot had already seen past the mask.  
"Yo, Q-man! What's up?" To Duo's dismay, Quatre sank down to sit beside him. One hand was fingering something tiny, a little piece of flashing gold.  
"Your chain snapped, Duo," Quatre explained, finally holding out the small golden thing to him. And Duo's heart leapt into his throat as he saw the cross, Father Maxwell's cross, nestled in the palm of Quatre's hand. Reflexively, he grabbed for it, hands closing around it as though it were a lifeline and he were drowning. And perhaps the analogy was not entirely wrong, for he suddenly felt his lungs burning and realized that he'd forgotten to breathe. He gasped in a breath, what-if tears blurring his vision as he contemplated life without that tiny, shiny reminder.  
"The chain . . . it ain't important, man," Duo finally choked out, masks forgotten as he stared down at his closed fist, feeling the edges of the cross bite into his skin and knowing it was drawing blood and not caring in the slightest. He contemplated, briefly, having the cross embedded into his skin, but knew that it wouldn't have the same meaning, then. He was Death, he was Shinigami, but he was also life, for with his memories, he kept those he loved alive.  
"It's all right, Duo. We'll get you another one," Quatre promised, then hesitated, looking a little nervous. "Anou . . . Duo? Would you tell me about the cross? Onegai?"  
Duo looked up in shock, then nodded. The Arabian pilot had saved his most treasured possession. He deserved to know the history behind it. So he began speaking, telling of Solo's gang and the Maxwell Church Massacre. At times, his voice choked up and he thought he wouldn't be able to continue. But each time, a few deep breaths eased the sensation, and soon he was able to talk again. Through it all, Quatre listened, thoughtful and silent. At the end of the telling, he looked at Duo with new respect.  
"I think I understand, now, why you treasure it so much," Quatre said softly. "Arigato gozaimasu, Duo." Duo just nodded, watching the blond pilot for a long time.  
  
It's amazing to me how alike we are, he and I. We both have such different reasons for fighting this war, and yet, they're the same reasons when you get down to the basics. To stop the pain, to stop the suffering. I imagine it must be strange to him, sitting beside me like this and talking to me, knowing that we fight for the same goal and yet have such different backgrounds. I can only hope that someday he'll see the similarities. Perhaps someday, they all will.  
  
We pray for the children whose tears we sometimes laugh at, and whose smiles can make us cry.  
And we pray for the children who live and move, but have no being.  
  
We pray for the children who want to be carried and for those who must,  
For those we never give up on  
And for those who don't get a second chance.  
For those we smother . . .  
And for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.  
  
-Owari-  
  
Author's Notes:  
The prayer at the end is part of a much longer and very beautiful prayer by Ina Hughes. I call it Prayer for the Children, and you can find it at my site. The URL for my homepage is listed in my sig file. The story itself I have NO idea where it came from. It just pulled itself out of thin air again. I hope you enjoy the fic, and please go read the prayer. And share it. It should be shared.  
  
--Yuuki Miyaka  
http://www.geocities.com/yuukimiyaka/index.html 


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